The Equestrian Scrolls
by Rallag
Summary: Abloody civil war has ripped a nation in two. A lone unicorn ventures out to save Equestria from itself.  My first attempt at a serious fanfiction, constructive criticism welcome as always. Rated T for language and gore, may be moved to M in future
1. Prologue

Prologue

War. Some ponies say that war never changes.

They looked at the basics of war, saw ponies killing others over a multitude of feeble reasons, and decided that there was nothing more to it. That war, ever since Ponykind had discovered the killing power of rock and stone had always been the same. Murder in the name of greed, religion, even pure psychotic rage.

I knew differently.

I had seen how war had evolved, how vastly different it had become. When the Griffons first attacked, almost ten years ago, the battle was almost cordial. After one side had won, injured were returned, bodies treated with respect. Whether it be through necessity or vengeance, I saw that all change.

As the death toll rose, I saw the slow descent into savagery. I saw the massacre of Trottingham bridge, where foals and their mothers were little more than cannon fodder. I then witnessed the retaliatory massacre at the place now known as shattered egg mountain. Before it had been Rift, a relatively peaceful Griffon trading village. At least, as peaceful as Griffons get.

You see, propaganda works better on a population beset by war. You were taught to believe Griffons were the monsters. That they would show no quarter, and by killing them you were merely defending your home and family. I myself was none the wiser, until conscription was introduced. And I saw my relatively peaceful life as a blacksmiths assistant came to an end. I continued to believe them to be merciless, savage beasts whom even had claws, wings and a beak designed to kill ponies. Then you saw the injured lying on the battlefield. No matter if they were griffon or pony; they all cried the same tears. Felt the same pain. Died the same way.

I witnessed the sacking of Canterlot, when Equestria truly began losing the war. The city was sieged for three weeks, until the shields cast by the princesses finally faltered and the city fell.

War was always changing. Everypony's experience of war was different, from the ones who bled out slowly upon the scorched earth, to the lucky ones who were killed instantly by sword or claw.

A crossbow bolt could kill you instantly, or leave you crippled for life. New weapons were being developed all the time. We strived to find better ways to kill each other, and we got better and better at it. I shudder at the thought of what might have been if the war hadn't ended, the extinction of ponykind no longer seemed like a fanciful concept.

War changed even when we returned to our homes. Mine was gone, so instead I headed north to etch out a living somewhere. This war was thought in our minds with memories and regrets as the enemy and insanity the viscous invader. Nopony returned home whole, whether it be in body or spirit, and no family went without loss.

You would have thought that we would have learnt our lesson, that war would be ended with the retreat of the griffins and harmony would be returned. But five years of bloodshed and the loss of the two monarchs that had ruled over us for little over a thousand years had caused something

to snap in the collective consciousness of ponykind.

If it were up to me, I would see us recognise the six new virtues of ponykind: Greed and violence, Arrogance and Cruelty, Vengeance and Hate. For it had been barely a year before we returned once again to war, this time pony against pony, brother against brother, friend against friend.

The north, its stubbornness forged in the bitter cold and freezing rain, never came to terms with the loss of the war. When the griffon "Thalmor" arrived to enforce the ban on alicorn worship, they were killed, the head proudly displayed on pikes from the stone walls of Stalliongrad. The southern guides that accompanied them returned to the south with a message. I knew it was all over when the "message" consisted of the disembodied head of the Thalmor ambassador. Tasteful. The north split from the south, and renamed itself "Skyrim". The south sent its first legion with the aim of crushing this rebellion as soon as possible, pressured into action by some very angry griffons. I owed no allegiance to Skyrim, they could all burn for all I cared. But I was conscripted anyway.

The 1st Equestrian legion was pushed all the way back to the Heartland, we decided to pursue. We never expected the 3nd and 7th legion to be waiting, even after the toll the war had taken on Equestria they had to have mustered at least two thousand ponies. We had half that number, but consisting of experienced, battle hardened ex-legionaries. Neither side stood a chance.

This is where my tale began. Everypony has a tale to tell, and the only interesting parts of mine began, and ended, with a battlefield, surrounded by dead ponies of every colour and creed.

My name is Silent Hoof. Quite dramatic a name, I admit to choosing it for that very purpose. After I lost the need for any identity I once had.

I am neither a son of Skyrim nor a loyal legionnaire of Equestria. I am a pony who once had some semblance of what a normal life should be like, under the flag of harmony. But war changed that, war changes everything. This is my story.

_And I took you by the hand_

_And we stood tall,_

_And remembered our own land,_

_What we lived for._

_And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears._

_And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears._

_Get over your hill and see what you find there,_

_With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair._

_And now I cling to what I knew_

_I saw exactly what was true_

_But oh no more._

_That's why I hold,_

_That's why I hold with all I have._

_That's why I hold._

_I won't die alone and be left there._

_Well I guess I'll just go home,_

_Oh God knows where._

_Because death is just so full and man so small._

_Well I'm scared of what's behind and what's before._

_-Mumford And Sons_

_(Big thanks to myself, all credit for inspiration goes to Bethesda and Hasbro. Overdramatized? Too sentimental? If you find yourself a perpetrator of any of these accusations upon my fair prologue, I shall strike you down, with the power of one thousand Chuck-Kon Do backwards fist slaps. Or just accept it as fair criticism. Thanks for reading. )_


	2. Chapter 1

Introduction

_By Rallag7_

I always imagined waking up on a battlefield to be a fairly relieving experience. Sleeping through it was always the preferable option to fighting and dying in it, but now I wasn't so sure. You woke, wondering why death hadn't taken you like it had to so many others. Why your injuries hadn't killed you in your unconsciousness. Why you were special.

- Consciousness returned with a vengeance. A sharp, painful, head-splitting kind of vengeance, that almost certainly meant I had sustained a head injury. From a large, blunt object judging by the bruised and bloodied patch I felt behind my ears with one hoof.

I lay there in pain, trying to imagine I was in the warm, soft wholeness of any kind of bed. Preferably a hospital bed, with a lot of painkillers. And alcohol. But the cold, hard dirt took away any kind of illusions of grandeur, along with my hopes for painkillers and alcohol.

I gave a groan, supporting myself with one hoof as I tried to straighten up somewhat, I collapsed again, to any outside observers I imagined it to be quite a pathetic sight. I opened my left eye, then my right. Or tried to at least, the left one refused to open. I tried to push away the thought of it being an empty socket, and surveyed the carnage around.

It was around mid-afternoon, and I was alone on top of a small hill, plains marred by pockmarks of craters and shells of building to the south and the foothills of some grand mountains to the north. Corpses surrounded me, their blood had recently soaked the ground a deep crimson. The ground was almost completely covered in the biological decay, in some places the corpses piled on top of one another until they had become indistinguishable. What once had been two armies of living, breathing ponies had been reduced to just another layer. No flowers grew, the grass was trampled or dead, blackened stumps indicating where there might have once been proud, green trees. I was in the heartland.

As if to confirm my assumption, a lone peak dominating the horizon loomed to my left, the grand city that had once adorned its slopes now barely clung on. Most of it rubble at the base, I tried not to imagine the bodies that I had once called family lying under the crumbled masonry.

The sounds of battle had long since faded away. Nopony wanted to stay in the heartland, so the two armies had probably retreated, and judging by the mass of dead that stretched out in every direction, after suffering considerable losses. I was missing, most likely presumed dead. Just another among the uncountable lost.

I didn't care if we had won, or if we had been routed. It didn't matter to any of the dead pony's around me, so it shouldn't matter to me, the only difference between me and them was a beating heart. What was the point in fighting for a cause that you weren't alive to appreciate?

I tentatively rolled over the head of the nearest body. An earth pony, and a southerner, if his plated steel and leather barding were anything to go by. I guessed it was his first battle from the youthful features, why did he not survive? The obvious answer was the viscous pike sticking from his side. Death doesn't choose us based on our actions, goodwill or even our choices. It takes randomly, viciously and effortlessly. This stallion probably had a family, a partner or a kid. He didn't deserve such a short life, just as I didn't deserve my relatively long one.

I turned away quickly; I knew what had happened to ponies who had questioned the motives of death for too long. Suicide was not uncommon in the north, especially among the veterans of the Great War. I don't see why they called it the Great War. Nothing was great about it, and now we had begun a second great war. This time no longer against foreign invaders, but against ourselves.

A lone standard fluttered in the breeze. It was tattered and blood-stained, I doubt anypony was still around to be inspired by it, to kill for it. My eyes followed it, widening when I spotted two shapes swirling overhead. If they were griffins or southern pegasi, I'd be dammed if I lay down and let them kill me. Nopony deserved the satisfaction. Perhaps it was selfishness, oo foolish notions of self-worth, but I knew only I should end it all.

Sharp, airborne eyes focused in on my movement as I readied in some form of battle stance. My head still throbbed incessantly, but I tried to ignore the pain as I instead focused on a spell that would bring them down. I didn't know if they were of Skyrim or Equestria, but nopony returns to a battlefield with good intentions while carrying weapons instead of medical supplies. Allegiance no longer registered in my mind anymore, I just needed something to somehow justify my continued existence, and stopping ponies from killing wounded ponies seemed like a good enough ideal.

As they swooped in closer, I got a better look at the two. Two pegasi, sporting crossbows and equestrian light leather barding, one red and one green. Two more dead bodies.

They stopped just within range, hovering as they took precious seconds to load their weapons with the deadly bolts. Fortunately, I used no clumsy ranged weapon, instead my horn glowed darkly and a bolt of pure electrical energy shot straight at the red pegasus. But he was fast, faster then I expected, and the bolt continued flying into the stratosphere. Undeterred his green friend with the yellow mane shot at me, and with no time to dodge I sent my feeble magical shield up between me and the deadly missile, it was almost completely disintegrated,

Almost. The sharp tip burrowed itself in the thick cloth that made up my mages' barding, and I silently cursed my inability to produce any kind of practical magical shield, even with the magicka-enhancing cloak I wore. The green mare laughed, winging around for a second attack

"Look at 'im Blackstreak, can't even deflect a single bolt, I almost feel sorry ending 'is miserable life, for Equestria!"

The bolder pegasus dived towards me, another bolt already readied on her weapon. At this range, she couldn't miss. Fortunately, neither could I.

"Take this for Equestria, Bitch!"

Heh, this endless war seemed to be growing on me, I was never much one for profanities. The spinning ball of charged magic hit her straight in the snout; I gained a little satisfaction from her last expression of surprise. She dropped like a stone. Her blackened body tumbled from the sky, now a rag doll at the mercy of strong winds.

I had heard that pegasi were stupidly loyal, but never seen it for myself. The red flyer, Blackstreak, instantly threw caution to the wind and streamlined his body in a futile attempt to catch her before the ground reduced her to a green-coloured splat. She barely four metres from the unforgiving solidity of earth before he managed to catch her mid-fall, crossbow long ago abandoned in favour of empty hooves. He slowly floated her down, all thoughts of killing me disregarded along with his weapon.

She was laid gently on a patch of earth empty of bodies, he buried his face in the burnt fur. There they lay for some time, I occasionally caught the whispers of a one sided conversation. "It's okay…please Meadow, say something…nod your head, anything…"

I facehoofed. Dealing with a bereaved pegasus was way out of my area of expertise. Ironically that area of expertise I called my own involved bereaving pegasi. I only noticed how young he looked when I was looking straight into unforgiving eyes.

"You killed Meadow."

It was a statement, but a disputable one.

"She tried to kill me, in case you didn't notice. And so did you, so unless you have anything else to say, I'm not hanging around."

He didn't move an inch, bloodshot eyes as crimson as his body stared into my own, tears etched lines down his face.

"She was my best friend. Now I'm going to kill you."

Wow, no wonder we ponies kill each other so often. With stupidity like this, it was hard not to.

"Uhh.. you don't have a weapon, and I do" I tapped the body part in question, exaggerating my gestures towards my horn as much as possible.

"I'm going to kill you."

Were all Pegasi this stupid? There weren't many up north, but I had seen some fighting against the griffins, and presumed that anything that could fly would have at least been gifted with some form of intelligence. I lingered there for a moment, before turning the opposite direction.

"Look kid, I'm not accustomed to killing unarmed ponies, and don't plan to start now. So you wing your feathery ass back to wherever you came from, forget what happened here, and be glad you met me instead of any other pony. People tend not to be so merciful nowadays."

I looked back, relieved that he hadn't chosen to follow, but caught the rage building up in his features. He would be back, bloodshot eyes promised that much. But I wasn't worried. Better to die now then at the hoof of a pony with much less of a valid reason to kill me.

I continued walking, half expecting the hiss and the thud of a crossbow bolt embedding itself in my skull. But he hadn't picked up the weapon. It was only when I was half a mile off that a dark shape carrying another object launched itself into the sky, still fast even when burdened.

I had set off in a northerly direction, the familiar mountains looming in the distance. But then gave a sigh and turned south. It was probably suicide; my head would probably end up making a pleasant decoration on some southern generals' wall. But even trying to end this pointless war was as good a goal as any. I had considered settling down on a patch of land somewhere, maybe out east near Hoofington, but I resolved to instead travel south, try to persuade some more idiotic ponies not to kill each other. And end a pointless civil war.

I don't believe in any kind of higher deity, not after seeing that the princesses weren't truly immortal. But something had allowed me to survive a whole battle unconsciousness, with only a slight head wound to show for it. I may have some kind of awesome divine destiny to try and save Equestria from itself, I may not. But somepony had to try, so it might as well be a cold, friend-killing bastard like me.

Ponyville.

Former home to around 200 residents, including the famed elements of harmony, we grew up hearing legends about them. They found strength through freindship, an embodiment of all that old Equestria valued. Honesty, Loyalty, Kindness, Laughter, Generosity and Magic. I had only seen them in action once, it had been my first battle, we were holding the line against a relentless griffin assault...

"_Shorty, keep your damn head down! And get that helmet on, before a some Griffin decides to give you a haircut with a battle axe."_

_Already skittish because of the constant magical explosions bombarding our trench, I nearly jumped out of my skin when a arrow as big as my foreleg thumped into a wooden board behind me. I hit the ground as fast as I could, lying in the muddy bottom of the trench with hooves over my ears, trying to block out the sound of the battle raging around me. _

"_Here they come again, Shorty I told you to get your head down, not bury it in the ground!"_

_I looked up shamefully from where I had been cowering, into the fierce face of the brown earth pony who was our sergeant._

"_S-s-sorry sarge, I-I was just surprised, was all." _

"_Right, whatever, just put that horn to good use and start firing something painful at them sky patrols"_

_All along the front line I saw unicorns firing varying types of magical energy at the advancing lines of griffins, while earth ponies operated catapults and trebuchets, the viscous rocks and over-sized bolts could turn a griffin into a bundle of feathers with a single hit. Some of the more creative ones would pick up a pony in their claws, take them to a gut-wrenching height, and let them drop onto the large siege engines. _

_Directly above me a pegasus slammed into a griffin mid-flight, the aerial dogfight soon turned to a tooth and claw wrestle as they both plummeted to earth. I popped my head over the lip of the trench, supervised to see a nasty looking bird flying straight for me. Conjuring the first spell that came to my mind, I'm not sure if it was me or the griffin who was more bemused to see a sudden growth of facial hair above it beak. This momentary distraction caused it to lose, spearing itself on one of the sharpened stakes hammered into the ground, I turned away and winced as something warm and sticky splattered across the side of my face._

_The Sargent looked mildly impressed, but I thought I was going to spew. The bile was caught in my throat, and I managed to keep it from going all over my superior._

"_Heh, good work sh-URGHH-" His throat made a horrible gurgling sound as watched in horrified fascination, two blades appearing from his neck. They were removed, and I couldn't hold it down anymore as the body dropped on top of me, the sick went everywhere._

_Behind him, holding twin serrated swords was the biggest griffin I had ever seen. Maybe they were just bigger up close, but I was convinced this one was abnormally huge. Muscles bulged from everywhere as it looked down at my quivering form, covered in blood and vomit. The griffin shook his head and laughed mirthlessly._

"_Pathetic creature"_

_It raised it's sword high above its head before I learned to appreciate the cruel irony of death when the tip of a spear emerged from the griffon's feathered throat, I wondered how anypony could have had the strength to drive a weapon through that amount of muscle. The giant fell on top of Sargent, the two dead bodies becoming large obstacles in the already cramped trench. An orange mare approached me, covered in what only could have been the most beautiful heavy battle barding I had ever seen. She dropped the spear, griffin blood still dripping from it, and stood over me with a look of concern._

"_You okay sugarcube?"_

_She wore a strange necklace that the barding seemed almost made around rather than over, which had a strange crystal, fashioned to look like an apple. Realization dawned on me, I suddenly knew who this strange mare was._

"_You-you're the el-"_

"_Its Applejack sugarcube, now are you sure you're all right, I gotta go join ma friends you see"_

_All I could do was nod meekly, barely muttering a thank you before she leapt out of the trench, and into no-ponies land, I marveled at the graceful maneuver, that armour must have been heavy._

_From somewhere along the fron, I heard someone let out a terrifying yell._

"_LEVIATHAN!"_

_The more experienced ponies leapt out of the trench, pure terror frozen on their faces. The curious ones, my self including, carefully raised our heads above the trench, and if it were possible for my eyes to pop out and my jaw to hit the floor of their own accord, they would have at that moment. _

_The leviathan wasn't huge, it wasn't ginormous. That thing was...gargantuan. Standing at least 20 ponies high on its two legs, the leviathan was massive. Incirate patterns traced the massive golden plates that made up its armour, while its head was the face of some kind of strange and alien creature. One arm served as a gigantic crossbow, almost like a portable onager, while the other was some kind of massive sledgehammer, which it swung to great effect. I could see gears turning at every joint, while steam blew out of funnels strategically placed at its back. All of its machinery seemed to have a dirty green glow, like some kind of ancient, necromantic magic kept it moving. Some ponies said that it was a masterpiece of griffin engineering and zebra magic, others said it was a relic they had found deep underground. I sincerely hoped it was the latter. If the griffin dominion could make more of those things...then Equestria was already lost._

_It stormed forward steadily but awkwardly, every step made it seem more like an angry, confrontaional giant then a simple machine. Worst of all, it was headed straight for our trench. But it suddenly stopped, as if hitting an invisible wall. Stood before it, in the middle of no-ponies land, seeming like ants in comparison to the colossal machine, six mares waited defiantly. The first swing of its massive sledgehammer shuddered against the purple shield that surrounded them, but it lent forward and started breathing...breathing at them? Breathing frost at them? The shield continued to deflect the frost breath/magic stuff, but the purple shield began to falter. I gulped, not even the elements of harmony could defeat this thing?_

_But then there was a flash of white light, a blinding surge of magic that seemed to originate from the six mares, converge into some kind of super-magic-beam thingy, and blast straight into the chest of the Leviathan. I was in way over my head here._

_The machine swayed for about 10 seconds, but with its magical support completely vaporized it fell into an unrecognizable pile of scrap metal. The griffin army turned and fled. The cheers of thousands of ponies filled the air. But now I know that defeat was inevitable, that this awesome display of power from the symbol that unites equestria was but an inconvenience, a slight delay to the ever turning gears of war..._

I longed to forget that day. It is a constant remainder of what I used to be...Shorty...what kind of parents named their colt Shorty? I shook my head, and turned my attention back to the miserable cluster of buildings still intact, around the town hall.

Ponyville was a small settlement now, ponies scraped a living from the blasted shells of former dwellings, a tiny yield of crop grew from dirt. After magic scorched the earth, nothing grew bountifully again. Ponyville had been the sight of a ferocious battle during the war, no amount of rebuilding could ever restore it to its former glory. I hoped this wasn't the case for the rest of Equestria.

It was raining now, a light drizzle that seemed to serve no purpose other than to dampen one's spirits. I drew my mages hood up over my head, poking my horn through the appropriatly placed gap in the fabric as I headed into town. Although I highly doubted a dark unicorn would be that conspicous, I couldn't take any chances. Ponyville was Equestrian territory, though I wore nothing to suggest that I had any relation to Skyrim, an effective interrogation spell could lead me to confess my short career in Skyrim's militia in seconds. Nevermind the Equestrian pegasus I had killed before coming here.

Crossing a rickety bridge, I came to the centre of town, only two buildings remained entirely intact. To my left, a large building bore the legend "sleeping giant inn" to my right, the "ponyville trader." I desperately needed bits, but the long trek from the battleground all the way over by the ruins of canterlot had left me exhausted, so I took the left.

Cautiously heading through the gnarled wooden door, I was first greeted by the roar and warmth of a large open fire. I instantly fell into a state of relaxation. The inn wasn't busy, but the small talk of various patrons provided a constant background noise, along with a unicorn mare who was softly playing a flute in the corner. Turned my attention to the stallion washing grimy mugs at the corner.

"How much for the room?"

"Five bits, sleep in it or not, its yours for the night"

I reached with magic for the inside of my cloak, a carefully sown pocket contained all the money I had. All my worldly possessions where in a barracks in Stalliongrad, but it not like I could fetch them now.

"Two bits...three...four bits..." I frowned, feeling around for the rest of the charge. "Ahh, five bits, plus one for a drink of apple cider."

The barkeep grumbled incomprehensibly, but then returned with a mug full of the liquor, and a rust iron key. He gestured to a wooden door built into the wall.

"It's that one, and pull yer hood down, your makin' some of the other guests nervous"

I looked around at the practically empty inn. "Whatever, thanks anyway."

I trotted into the small room. About three by four metres, not to dirty, with a small side cupboard and cheap novel with the title "The lusty Trottingham mare." As sure I was that it would make for an enlightening read, I turned by attention to the most important object in the room. A nice...soft...bed...

I could save Equestira later, but sleep first, then see if the Ponyville trader had any nice, easy jobs for me to do Equestria wasn't going anywhere.

By the time you hear the siren

It's already too late

One goes to the morgue and the other to jail

One guy's wasted and the other's a waste

It goes down the same as a thousand before

No one's getting smarter

No one's learning the score

Your never ending spree of death a violence and hate

Is gonna tie your own rope

Gonna tie your own rope

-The Offspring

_(Good enough plot development? Believable charachters? Bearing in mind this is my first serious fic, feel free to criticize and suggest improvement about anything from plot direction to story structure.)_


End file.
